


Bruising Roses

by Bookdancer



Series: Viktuuri Week 2018 [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Broken Promises, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Day Two, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Katsuki Yuuri, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Promises, Viktuuri Week 2018, Yuuri's name with two "u"s, graphic descriptions not included, guilty Viktor, plus some fluff at the end, there's a happy ending i promise, this is pure angst i'm sorry, yuuri prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 22:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13556937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookdancer/pseuds/Bookdancer
Summary: Viktor promised Yuuri that he would keep his eyes on him, but he looks away for two seconds.Two seconds too many.





	Bruising Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this is my fic for Day Two of Victuuri Week 2018! Yes, it's a day late and I sincerely apologize for that, but this ended up getting longer than I originally planned and I needed sleep.
> 
> I do not own Yuri!!! On Ice, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also cross-posted to ff.net (Bookdancer) and tumblr (@bookdancerfics).

“Don’t take your eyes off me?” Yuuri asks, and Viktor nods at him, flashing a smile. 

“Eyes on you,” he promises. It’s only the short program, but it’s the short program at _Worlds_ , and one skate can make or break a score anyway. Viktor’s seen it happen, so many times that he’s lost count now.

Yuuri skates off to center ice, his short half-skirt flowing back with his momentum. He briefly kisses the ring on his right hand, and Viktor mirrors the motion before his fiancé takes his starting position.

 _In Regards to Love: Eros_ struts from the speakers, but Yuuri is the one who walks the streets of his storied town, twisting his body in time with the music. He moves from the step sequence into a camel spin, then glides across the ice into a spread eagle, right into his signature triple axel.

Second half of the program, Viktor notes, and frowns when Yuuri lands the axel. It isn’t a jump he typically has trouble with, but for a brief moment it looked like Yuuri wobbled on his skate.

He hears the announcer say something similar, and he looks up to where he knows Morooka-san and the other reporters are. Something to talk about with Yuuri, he knows, but not until later that night.

Viktor is just turning back to the ice, to Yuuri, when the whole crowd gasps.

It isn’t a pleased gasp, or a surprised one, Viktor is too familiar with those, and he hadn’t discussed anything different with Yuuri. It was supposed to be the same program.

Viktor’s gaze flies over the whole rink before he realizes that for some reason, he’s looking too high, even though he _shouldn’t_ be, because this isn’t when Yuuri’s sit spin is, _where is Yuuri_?

People are yelling, some screaming, and Viktor dimly notes the hand shaking his shoulder as he finally sees his fiancé. His skater. His future husband. His _Yuuri_ , and Viktor flies for the ice, pushing off whoever had grabbed his shoulder, not caring that he didn’t even have skates on, ignoring the cries for the on-call medics, because his Yuuri lay motionless on the ice, Viktor only took his eyes off him for _two seconds, why -_

“Viktor!” Yuri’s voice finally breaks through as Viktor slides to a stop at Yuuri’s body, falling to his knees and reaching for him. “Don’t touch him!”

Yuri is the only one keeping Viktor from Yuuri, and Viktor wants to say no, wants to scream, wants to cry, wants to _do something_ , except then the paramedics are there, talking about the potential for broken bones, “Where’s that neck brace?” one says in English, and Viktor suddenly wishes that this year’s Worlds had been in a country with a language he didn’t speak.1

Viktor feels himself being pulled away, and for the first time he lets it happen. Yuri tugs him back to the boards, where Yakov stands with his coat, and Viktor lets his coach maneuver his arms into the sleeves.

He stares out on the ice, where Yuuri is finally being carried off on a stretcher, a brace wrapped around his neck.

One of the paramedics stops once she’s off the ice, immediately turning to Viktor, frazzled ginger hair betraying her calm countenance.

“His coach?” she says, and Viktor nods, still numb. “The ambulance is already here, do you want to go with him?”

Viktor nods again and turns to Yakov and Yuri, but they both wave him on.

“We’ll follow,” Yakov says, and Viktor somehow finds the strength to nod a third time.

“His parents,” Viktor says, fumbles for his phone, but his coach grabs his arm.

“We’ll take care of things here,” Yakov promises, and bodily turns Viktor to the rink’s exit. “You take care of Katsuki.”

The paramedic apparently waited, and she puts a hand on his upper back to help guide him through the crowd. Everyone is still yelling, and screaming at Viktor, asking him questions that he can’t answer because he doesn’t _know_ , he really doesn’t, and can’t they just let him through?

They make it to the ambulance right as the doors are about to close, and Viktor stumbles inside on suddenly shaky legs, reaching for Yuuri’s hand as soon as he’s sitting.

“Careful,” another paramedic warns.

“I know,” Viktor says, and rubs his fiancé’s ring. Yuuri looks fragile on the stretcher, a bandage wrapped around his head but already bleeding through, and Viktor suddenly realizes that they hadn’t even bothered to take off Yuuri’s skates, not even bothered to put on his blade covers. Half of his right blade is missing, jagged where it must have snapped off. He finally manages to ask the question that’s been ringing in his head, ever since he first saw Yuuri sprawled on the ice. “What’s wrong with him?”

The paramedic who walked back with him gives him a comforting look. “Head trauma, although it’s hopefully mostly superficial. Head wounds bleed a lot, that’s all. The neck brace may look scary, but it’s just a precaution. And his right ankle is probably broken, we’re guessing because of the skate blade?”

She directs the question at Viktor, who nods in return. “I think it snapped off on his quad salchow. It’s the foot he would have landed on.”

“A jump?”

Another nod. This time he doesn’t speak.

No one talks for another minute, but it’s far from silent, the sirens wailing outside.

“We gave him pain meds at the scene,” the other paramedic says finally, breaking the silence and directing a sympathetic look at Viktor. “He shouldn’t be in any pain.”

“Thank you,” Viktor says.

As soon as they arrive at the hospital, Yuuri and his stretcher disappear down a hallway, a team of doctors and nurses surrounding him and talking so fast Viktor couldn’t keep up if he tried. The paramedics direct him to the waiting room, where he collapses into an uncomfortable chair. If Yuuri was here, Viktor would have complained. If Yuuri was here, they wouldn’t even be at the hospital. They would be at the ice rink, watching the last skaters before heading out to dinner with their friends.

At the reminder of them, Viktor pulls his phone out. Even as he watches, the screen lights up again and again, buzzing in his hand as more texts come in. Yuuko, Phichit, Yurio, Hiroko-san, Takeshi just two minutes after his wife. Yakov, even Lilia. Minako-sensei. Celestino.

He can’t bring himself to answer, and buries his head in his hands instead. He catches a glimpse of his own silver hair, the hair he knows Yuuri loves so much, and his throat catches in preparation for tears.

“Don’t you dare cry,” someone says above him, and Viktor looks up to see Yurio, the teenager’s face screwed up with anger. “Katsudon doesn’t deserve that.”

“Yuuri deserves my everything,” Viktor can’t help but murmur, and then watches Yuri make a point of sitting five seats away from him.

“Gross,” Yuri sneers, and promptly pulls his own phone out. His fingers fly over the screen, and Viktor briefly wonders if he’s texting Otabek. “Answer your damn messages,” Yuri tacks on.

“I don’t,” Viktor starts, and then stops at the look on Yuri’s face. Anger, at Viktor? Or at himself? Fear, for Yuuri? “Okay,” Viktor finishes.

 _waiting 4 news,_ he texts to everyone. _should be ok_

He doesn’t think he’s lying. Not after what the paramedic said.

As long as Yuuri is alive, he’s okay.

The wait has stretched for several more minutes, and Viktor has received replies to all of his messages, even been told that some of the other skaters are on their way, when Yuri speaks again.

“I can feel your angst from here, so spit it out.”

Viktor is silent instead, watching Yuri type on his phone.

“Are you texting Otabek?” he asks finally.

Yuri practically hisses at him. “No!”

“... I looked away.”

The blonde pauses, fingers hovering over the phone screen. “What?”

“I promised not to take my eyes off of him,” Viktor says, and stares at his own phone.

 _you better take care of him_ , his latest text reads. He doesn’t even have to look to know that it’s from Mari.

“So?” Yuri says.

Viktor blinks in surprise, looks up at the younger skater. “So, I looked away. The announcers were talking, and I looked toward them… I didn’t even see him fall.”

“Get over yourself, old man,” Yuri replies.

Viktor doesn’t move, stunned.

“Everyone breaks a promise. That doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

“But,” Viktor tries, and Yuri scoffs.

“Moping won’t make it any better.”

He doesn’t speak, just looks back down at his phone as it buzzes again.

 _3min out!!_ Phichit’s text reads.

Viktor shakes his head, drags a hand through his hair. “Where’s Yakov?”

“Huh?”

“Yakov,” he repeats. “He drove you, right?”

“Pulling press duty.”

“Oh.”

He hadn’t even thought of the press. They were so present in his life, yet in the face of an injury, Viktor didn’t care to remember them. They didn’t matter. Not like Yuuri did. Not like his friends.

“I should thank him,” he says, but Yuri is already shaking his head.

“Do it later.”

“Why?”

Instead of Yuri answering, a female voice speaks up from the corner of the waiting room, by the doors that Yuuri had disappeared into. “Is there family here for a Yuuri Katsuki?”

Viktor blinks, and he’s next to the doctor, having moved so fast that he almost missed it. The doctor’s ponytail pulls dark, coarse hair away from her face, framing similarly dark skin and eyes. She looks kind, and Viktor hopes that she also has kind news to share.

“Here,” he says, and squeezes Yurio’s shoulder when he joins them.

“Relation to the patient?” she asks.

“Fiancé,” Viktor says. “And coach.”

She nods, turning to a clipboard that she held in one hand. “My name is Doctor Beck, I took care of Yuuri today. If you’ll follow me?”

Doctor Beck leads them to the opposite end of the waiting room, where she presses the button for an elevator.

“Doctor,” Viktor starts, and she gives him an apologetic smile.

“Yes, I’m sorry. Yuuri is going to be fine.”

Viktor practically laughs in his relief, pulling Yuri against his chest in a tight hug.

“He’s okay?” Viktor says, breathless.

“He will be.” The elevator arrives, and all three walk in. Viktor watches Doctor Beck press the button for the third floor. “He has a concussion and a broken ankle, but thankfully there’s no sign of a spinal injury.”

“That’s great,” Viktor says, and follows the doctor down the hall after the elevator doors open. He feels his phone buzz in his pocket, but ignores it. Yuuri comes first.

“It is,” Doctor Beck agrees. “Unfortunately, due to the concussion we’d like to supervise Yuuri overnight, but he should be ready to be released in the morning.”

“Thank you so much.”

The doctor stops outside of a room and smiles at him. “You’re absolutely welcome, I’m glad his injuries aren’t as bad as they first looked. And this is you, Yuuri is already inside. No more than four visitors in his room at one time, and visiting hours end at 8. I’ll leave you to it.”

Viktor watches her leave while Yuri taps his foot, obviously impatient to go in. Instead, Viktor checks his phone.

_??? in waiting room w/ chris, where r u???_

“Viktor!” Yuri snaps. He waves a hand toward Yuuri’s door. “Are we going in?”

“Yeah,” Viktor mumbles, and wiggles his phone a little. “Just let me reply to Phichit…”

_at yuuri’s room, 317_

“Viktor!” Yuri says again, and all of a sudden Viktor finds himself face to face with the angry teenager, his phone gone. “I told you to stop moping already, now get the hell in there!”

“I…” Viktor starts and stops in the same breath, lacking the confidence that he was so known for.

“He wants you,” Yuri growls out, and opens the door to leave Viktor standing in front of it, staring at Yuuri. “No matter how gross you are, you know that’s true.”

Yuuri looks up at their voices, already smiling.

“Vitya,” he says, but Viktor can only look at him, soaking him in. The younger skater lays back on his bed, but the head is raised so that Yuuri is propped up. The sheets only come up to his waist, and Viktor can see the lump where his right foot is, elevated above his left. Medical tape attaches a bandage to his forehead, and Viktor guesses that it probably hides stitches. He’s the most banged up that Viktor has ever seen him, and suddenly Viktor finds himself crossing the room to the bed.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” he says. He stops at the bed, but only so he can lean down and pepper his fiancé’s face with kisses. Yuuri tilts his head up on one, and their lips meet. Viktor makes sure to be gentle, makes the kiss slow, makes it as meaningful as he can manage.

“Get a room,” Yurio says from the doorway, and Viktor hums as he breaks the kiss.

“This is Yuuri’s room, Yurotchka, how about you go find your own?”

“Viktor!” Yuuri sounds scandalized, which is the only reason Viktor smiles at him in apology.

Then he takes in a breath, thinks over his words, and says, “I’m so sorry, lyubov moya2.”

Yuuri tilts his head, the question in his eyes obvious.

“I looked away.”

“What?”

“Before you fell,” Viktor says. He hears other people approaching from the hallway, Phichit’s voice loud in the empty halls. “I’m so sorry. I promised you I would keep my eyes on you, but I heard the announcers and I _looked away_ , and you fell, I’m so _sorry_.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri answers, and pauses, and for a moment Viktor thinks he sees hurt in his fiancé’s eyes before it disappears, and resolve takes its place. “Vitya. It’s okay.”

“I don’t understand,” Viktor says, and backs away from the bed. From Yuuri.

“ _Vitya_ ,” Yuuri says again, and holds out one hand. The voices from the hallway are silent, and Viktor hopes they aren’t watching this. He takes Yuuri’s hand, and then squeezes it, feels Yuuri squeeze back. “It’s okay. You don’t need to be forgiven, but because I _know you_ ,” and Yuuri gives him a look that makes Viktor smile sheepishly. “I forgive you.”

“You do?”

“Yes,” Yuuri says. “Of course. You’re my fiancé, Viktor. I’m going to _marry you._ ” His voice sounds awed when he says it, like he still can’t believe who he’s marrying. Viktor understands the feeling. “Of course I forgive you. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Viktor says, and kisses Yuuri back against the bed, meeting him where he was.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. lol so yeah, this is where my creative license comes in purely for the angst. because the 2017 worlds was in finland… unlike the 2016 worlds, which was in boston and would have involved a lot… less.. creative license… heh
> 
> 2\. lyubov moya = “my love”
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> Finally, I have a tumblr now! You can find me at @bookdancerfics to ask questions and get writing updates. I also take prompts!


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